


Silver

by kittenofdoomage



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Descriptions of wounds, F/M, Fluff, NSFW, Older man, Oneshot, Reader Insert, Sex, Smut, explicit - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-17 17:33:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5879656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenofdoomage/pseuds/kittenofdoomage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: The reader always had a thing for John. He's a silver fox.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silver

After cleaning the bar top down, you started to clear away the glasses from the dishwasher, sighing as the door to the bar swung open again. You turned, exasperated after what had been a long day dealing with drunken hunters and even worse locals. Rufus had started some nonsense about Armageddon, and it had taken a call to Bobby Singer to get him picked up and removed before someone unloaded a round of rock salt in his face.

‘We’re…closed.’ Your voice faltered as you stared at the bloodied newcomer. He was just as handsome as you remembered him, but he was clearly in a bad way as he stumbled towards the bar, stopping at the pool table, one bloodied hand resting on the wood, propping him up. 'John?’ You blinked, then practically leapt over the bar to get to him before he fell over, placing your smaller body under his shoulder. 'What the hell happened?’ He chuckled, allowing you to take his weight as you helped him towards a sofa the other side of the table. 'Where’s Dean?’

'Dean’s where he’s supposed to be.’ John coughed, grimacing and clutching his waist. You set him down gently, kneeling before him.

'What does that mean? What got you?’

'Rugaru.’ He said, settling backwards, and you pried his hand away from his stomach to inspect his wounds. 'Now a dead Rugaru.’ Your eyes widened as you took in the extent of the damage to his rib cage. He had at least three broken ribs and two very deep gashes, bruising spreading across his skin, but difficult to see with the amount of blood on him. 'It’s not all mine.’ He said quietly, his hand searching out yours. You looked up, staring into his brown eyes, frowning slightly.

'Oh that makes it so much better.’ You stood, still allowing him to hold your hand. 'I’m going to get the first aid kit. Stay here.’ He chuckled, then winced at the pain.

'I’m not rushing off, don’t worry.’

The frown remained on your face as you grabbed the first aid kit from behind the bar and made sure the doors were locked tightly. Turning back to John, you saw him trying to peel his coat off. Normally, you wouldn’t mind the free strip show – your crush on John Winchester was a long standing one, one you’d harboured since laying eyes on him at eighteen. You were the same age as his youngest son, which was fairly wrong, although not illegal. One would naturally assume you’d crush on Sam or Dean, not that they weren’t without their appeal, and not for Dean’s lack of trying, but John was…John was tragically handsome, broken and all the things you should _not_ be attracted to.

'So rugaru, huh?’ You started, helping him get his coat off, trying not to freak out at every wince and hiss he gave. When the coat was off, the over shirt had to follow, and you continued, methodically, until he was naked from the waist up. Your eyes lingered on the parts of him that weren’t ripped up, the defined muscles of his chest and upper arms, and you couldn’t help but feel a little aroused by the sight of him half naked in front of you. Except he was actually covered in blood and wounds, and needed seeing to. 'Jesus, John, you might have internal bleeding.’ You whispered. 'Lean forward.’ He acquiesced, and you inspected his back, finding the damage not so severe but for one large bruise staining his side. You touched it gingerly, and he shied away, so you stopped, wondering if you had any arnica in the kit, turning to rummage through.

'Thanks for this, Y/N. I didn’t know where else to go. I would have tried to patch up myself but I damn near crashed the truck getting here.’ He paused, watching you pull various items out of the first aid kit. 'And even then, I wasn’t sure if you’d want me here, I know you deal with hunters but after last time with your father…’

You looked up and he quietened. 'Shut up, John.’ Your tone was good natured. 'You did the right thing coming here.’ Your voice got lower as you started to clean away the blood from the gashes on his stomach. 'Besides, my dad got taken out. Werewolf. Three months back.’

'I…I’m sorry, Y/N.’ John’s voice was quiet, and you shrugged.

'I never exactly got on with him. He wanted me out of hunting, and I was all too excited to get into the life. He’d been dictating to me since forever, and I hated it.’

'He was still your father.’ He replied, and you wondered if John even knew why your father hated him so. The fact that John Winchester openly trained and encouraged his boys to be the best of the best hunters out there was something your father had constantly ranted about, not wanting the man in his bar. If he’d even had a slight inclination of your true feelings toward John, he’d probably have gone mental. It wasn’t that you were happy your father had died, but you’d never been close, had never felt the bond you felt should have been there.

'Maybe so.’ You sighed, applying disinfectant to the largest gash on John’s stomach, and he hissed as you did it. 'Don’t be a baby.’ You scolded. 'The more you squirm, the longer this will take.’ He sighed, looking away, allowing you to continue your work. 'You want me to call anyone? Dean? Bobby?’ You knew Sam was off limits, since he’d gone off to college a few years back. It made you wonder where Dean was, seeing as he and John were normally attached at the hip.

'No. Don’t need anyone called. Dean is…Dean’s with Sam.’

'Dean’s going to college?’ You blinked, pausing as you looked up at him. 'That’s…not like Dean.’

John sniggered, shaking his head. 'No. It’s complicated. And you really don’t wanna know.’ He smiled, and you reached out, checking the scratches at his neck. His body went stiff as you touched him, and you stared at the wounds intently for a few moments.

'These aren’t so bad. I’ll disinfect them just in case.’ You smiled, your eyes meeting his. 'John?’ He didn’t reply, just staring at you, your hand still on his collarbone. 'John?’ You leaned closer, wondering if he was okay.

Without warning, he pulled you closer, ignoring his wounds to seek a kiss from your lips. You yelped in surprise, but moaned when his lips met yours, kissing you deeply, his tongue finding willing entrance to your mouth. It lasted for long seconds, until you moaned his name into his mouth, and he seemed to realise what he was doing.

'Shit, Y/N…I’m sorry…’ He pulled away, and you took a second to gather your bearings. 'I shouldn’t have done that.’

You returned your attention to cleaning and dressing his wounds, checking for any you’d missed, the warmth of his skin still imprinted on yours. 'Why not?’

'Because you’re about twenty years younger than me.’ He laughed dryly. 'I wouldn’t think for even an instant you were interested in an old man like me.’ You didn’t reply, pulling a stretch of gauze over his stomach wounds, securing them with medical tape.

'You’re all patched up. Wanna put some arnica on that back though.’ You said, cleaning the last of the blood off of his arms. All of his smaller wounds didn’t need covering, just cleaning, but a shower would do that for him. He sat there, watching you, all smoulder and silver fox and you suppressed a shudder at the kiss you’d shared with him. 'And don’t think you’re an old man, John.’ He raised an eyebrow. 'I wasn’t exactly complaining.’

'Huh?’ He looked confused for a second, and you stood, packing away the first aid kit.

'I’m saying that maybe you shouldn’t judge like that. I am perfectly entitled to be attracted to who I want. Regardless of whether they’re older than me or not.’

John blinked, staring, before a slow smile spread over his face. 'Is that why your dad hated me so much?’

You chuckled. 'No. No, that wasn’t it. He thought I had a crush on Dean.’

'And you don’t?’ He seemed a little surprised.

'No. Dean isn’t…experienced enough for my tastes.’ You leant forward. 'I prefer a more….seasoned lover.’ John licked his lips, then reached forward with speed you weren’t expecting, pulling you into his lap. You shrieked in surprise, then concern flooded your face. 'You’re going to hurt yourself.’

'I don’t care.’ He replied, pulling your mouth down to meet his. You jumped a little at the first touch of his lips to yours, but then you relaxed, sighing internally as the kiss deepened, and he pulled you flush against his bare chest, and you were careful not to disturb the bandages you’d just put in place. His hand cupped your face, and you rested yours around his neck, hoping this wouldn’t end, or that it would get better.

Finally, after long minutes, you pulled away. 'Not that this isn’t….spectacular, it’s pretty chilly down here. And there’s a perfectly good apartment and bed upstairs…’

'Maybe later.’ He said, pushing you to stand and following suit. He pulled you back towards him, holding you close as he kissed you again, swiftly moving from your mouth down your neck, nipping slightly as he went. 'I need you, right now. There’s plenty of time for slow later.’ His hands pulled at your camisole, and wetness flooded your thighs as you let him fight your top off, gasping and moaning as he kissed every patch of skin he could, removing your bra quickly and taking a nipple into his mouth. 'You wet for me, baby?’

'Fuck, John, yes.’ You gasped as he lavished attention on your breasts, his fingers fumbling with your pants. The belt came undone, followed by the buttons, and your pants fell to the floor. You slipped your sneakers off, toeing your jeans away and John kicked off his boots as you pulled at his pants, undoing them. His boxers went with them as they slid down his legs, allowing his dick to spring free from the cotton confines, and you wrapped a hand around him, relishing the moan he made as you pumped his cock up and down a few times.

His hands ran down over your ass to the back of your thighs, and he lifted you up with those strong arms of his, placing you on the edge of the pool table. You knocked the pool balls away, just he lowered you to the fabric, his fingers zeroing in on your drenched pussy. Roughly, he thrust two fingers inside you, twisting and scissoring, making you cry out. It had been a while since you’d had anyone, but you weren’t going to pass up this opportunity. 'John, please fuck me.’ You gasped and he nodded, pulling your body down a bit, pushing your legs up into your chest so your cunt and ass were hanging over the edge of the table. With his height advantage, it was easy for him to find your hold, rubbing the head of his cock against you as you cried out for more.

'You’re wet, baby girl.’ He muttered, then sank his dick into you as far as he could go. 'Fuck.’ The word was drawn out as he was enveloped in your heat, the tightness of your cunt surrounding him, his eyes squeezed shut as he allowed you to adjust to him.

'You have no idea how long I’ve dreamt of this.’ You whispered, eyes fluttering closed as he moved his hips marginally, his hands holding the back of your thighs in position as he slowly withdrew, his eyes on your face as he pulled out almost all the way.

'I could guess almost as long as I did.’ He grinned, before looking down, watching his cock sink back into your throbbing pussy. 'You were barely eighteen when I saw you for the first time.’ He pumped into you again, and you grunted as he hit your sweet spot. 'Now you’re what, 22?’

'Yeah..’ You gasped out, hands clawing at the pool table surface. He was filling you over and over, his warm hands pinning your thighs in place, and you thrust back, wanting more, more friction, more of him, god, you wanted him everywhere. For long years you’d fucked yourself to his image, his voice, his face, and now here he was, fucking you, sliding inside you, urging you to cum on him.

'God, you feel so good.’ He pulled his hips back, his strokes painfully slow, his eyes always on your cunt, watching you swallow his cock down, his skin glistening with your juices. 'You’re so fucking tight, Y/N.’

'John, please fuck me.’ You cried out, the agonising pace too much for you to bear as you clamped down on him, cumming hard as you begged for more. His eyes rolled back in his head as you grew tighter, squeezing his cock, and he lost control, thrusting into you with wild abandon, hitting deep as he fucked you into the pool table. You could feel the material digging into your back, but you didn’t care as long as he didn’t stop, the brutal pace he was setting sure to leave bruises along with the friction burn from the table.

The warmth in your belly swirled again, and you screamed his name as you came hard on him, and he grunted, leaning forward to suck a nipple into his mouth, still pistoning his cock into your tight cunt. His body shook as he felt you tighten again, and you clutched at him, begging him. 'John, please, cum inside me, please.’ He nodded, sweat dripping from his forehead, wincing as he increased the pace, his hands sliding on your sweaty skin as he jerked once, twice, and came with a cry of his own, spurting hot and thick into you, and you writhed, accepting all he had to give.

You were silent for a moment as he held your legs still, his cock still twitching inside you, his forehead resting on your stomach. 'John?’ You said quietly, your hands taking either side of his head, forcing him to look at you. Your eyes drifted down his face, drawn to the white gauze on his stomach that was slowly turning red. 'Shit.’ You pushed him off, and he pulled back, looking worried. He stood as you fumbled for your clothes and his, watching you with concern.

'Y/N….’

'John, just shut up. You’re bleeding again. I need to get you patched up.’ He blinked, and you stopped to look at him. The look on his face made you frown. 'You thought…’ A slow grin spread over your lips and you dropped the clothes onto the pool table, pulling him close to you. 'I’m not regretting a second of it. Just…need to get your wounds closed. Then I’m going to take _real_ care of you.’ He returned the grin, pulling your mouth to his and kissing you softly.

'I have no objection to that.’


End file.
